Mistaken Identities
by Inconsequential
Summary: Short drabbles on the myriad ways being a metamorphmagus can seriously trouble one's husband or thrill one's cousin... and the ways Polyjuice and invisibility cloaks can complicate life...
1. Mistaken Identities

A/N: OK, more exploration of the endlessly funny possibilities of being married to someone who can look like whatever they want… not THOSE possibilities. Honestly.

The newlywed Remus and Nymphadora Lupin sat in the kitchen of 12 Grimmauld place, an hour early for an Order meeting. They were discussing a topic that had come up the previous night, when Dora had decided to experiment with different shapes at intimate moments, and had an identity crisis.

"Really, Dora," Remus said, stroking her spiky pink hair, "it doesn't matter in the least what you look like. You're always you. Even if you looked like Molly Weasley or Fleur Delacour or, I don't know, Kingsley Shacklebolt. Though female. Let's not get any notions." Privately, he felt he was the one who should be worried: while in a different shape, Tonk could conceivable cheat on him with anyone and never be caught.

Tonks looked at him skeptically, slowly changing her form until she was, indeed, the spitting image of Molly Weasley.

"You still love me now?" she said, pouting in a very Tonks-like way.

"Of course!" Remus smiled at her and kissed her on the lips.

Unfortunately, Ron chose that moment to apparate into the kitchen, followed by Arthur.

"MUM?!" Ron fainted.

Arthur did not hesitate. He walked up to Lupin, drew his fist back, and punched him hard enough that Remus soon followed Ron into unconsciousness.

Only then did he take a look at 'Molly,' who had now turned back into a horrified-looking pink-haired Tonks.

"Oops."

Once Remus woke up and Tonks repaired his broken nose, they decided that really, there was tremendous comic potential in the situation.

"Oh, Kingsley won't be coming until after the meeting," Arthur told them. "He's with the Muggle Prime Minister at a Press Conference for the fellytision or something."

Remus and Tonks looked at each other. Slowly, Tonks' form shifted, her hair sucked into her scalp, and her skin darkened until she became the spitting image of Kingsley Shacklebolt, distinguished Auror, who just happened to be wearing a tight pink t-shirt and ripped jeans.

She let Ron take a lot of pictures, posing as 'extremely gay Kingsley,' sometimes with the rest of the Order. She did a striptease, kissed her husband, and grew what looked like a terrible platinum-blond wig. Now she would certainly have something to wave in his face when he berated her for late reports.

It was all in good fun, though.

Until, that is, a few minutes after the meeting, when Tonks left to go to the bathroom, and Remus, entering the dim vestibule, spotted her, in Kingsley form, passionately snogging Mad-Eye Moody.

He saw red.

He ran up to her, grabbed her by the shoulder, and ripped her away from the retired Auror.

"What is the meaning of this?" he raged, so upset he couldn't see straight.

If he could have seen, he might have noticed Kingsley's single earring, and realized that metamorphmagi could not, in fact, morph jewelery.

Mad-Eye whipped out his wand. "What are ye, homophobic?" he growled.

"Really, you have no call to behave this way," Kingsley said in his deep, slow voice.

"Remus?" called Tonks cheerfully, from the other room.

This time, it was Remus who fainted.

Mad-Eye and Kingsley looked down at his supine body, shrugged, and went back to snogging.

When Tonks walked in on them in search of Remus, she decided that her blackmail pictures had so little on reality that they were pretty much worthless.

Tonks kind of liked the humor of the situations she had caused, though, even if they had twice resulted in Remus being rendered unconscious. So, for the next month, Remus found himself waking up to the faces (and naked bodies) of, variously: Dolores Umbridge, Professor McGonagall, Ron Weasley and Severus Snape.

Which is the real reason he walked out on Tonks. And to think, he'd thought it was _his_ condition that was the problem.


	2. Remus' Worst Night

A/N: This really isn't centered on Tonks and Lupin, but it's sort of part of the same realm of naughty thoughts I've had. In any case, have you ever wondered what the myriad implications of Polyjuice could be for, say, the prostitution business?

A small sign on Knockturn Alley flashed its magically illuminated message to all passersby of a curious or prurient bent.

_Polyjuice for the Amorous_ the sign read, in a pitiful sort of pun which its clientele generally did not understand. Below:

_Have the lover of your dreams… _be _the lover of your dreams_.

The establishment had been the idea of Amodosius Ambrose, once the young and dashing scion of an old, pureblood family. Gifted in nothing but Potions and skirt-chasing while at Hogwarts, his bent toward shool-age witches would have gotten him into trouble had he not combined his two main interests. His extremely tolerant wife (incidentally a muggle-born) put up with nightly infusions of Polyjuice so that her husband, as they grew older, could be properly satisfied. Eventually, as he began to exchange his hair for a potbelly, she made him do the same.

And the idea of _Polyjuice for the Amorous_ was born (Amodosius needed the money, as his family had disinherited him when he married the muggle-born Helena). It was quite simple, really: you and one of the workers (whether they were originally male or female did not matter much, though they took requests) would avail yourself of Polyjuice Potion with the hairs of your selection, and _voilà_—you could experience love as the man or woman you wished you could be, with the man or woman you wished you could be with. In appearance, anyway. They also kept the hairs of some accommodating (or not so accommodating) famous witches and wizards, like the young tenn heartthrob, Gildery Lockhart, the lovely WWN presenter Glenda Chittock, or the attractive gossip columnist Rita Skeeter. No Veela, of course, because their hair couldn't be used in Polyjuice—but just as well, plenty of houses of ill repute had Veela, and not everyone wanted sheer perfection.

Twenty-four-year-old Remus Lupin stood outside the shop, ashamed that he had fallen so low as to frequent such an establishment. But, with his lycanthropy precluding any real relationships, it was this or onanism. And he was tired of himself. In so many ways.

He entered the establishment, firmly clutching the hairs he had chosen: that of his second cousin Angus, and the other of his crush from afar while he knew Sirius, Andromeda Tonks.

As he spoke with the madam of the house (none other than Helena Ambrose herself), he affirmed that he had no wish to see the other party before the Polyjuice transformation. He dropped Andromeda's hair in the proffered goblet, and it was borne away too Room G6. He took his own Polyjuice, and was gratified to find himself in the scar-free, dark-haired and healthily muscular body of his second cousin, of whom he had always been jealous.

After satisfying his fantasies in a fairly anguished, guilt-ridden way, he found himself slipping off into fitful sleep.

Some hours later, he awoke—clearly back to his own shape, he noted, looking at his wiry, scar-covered arms. He turned to the person sleeping next to him only out of morbid curiosity.

And screamed.

It was Argus Filch.

(A/N: Filch was, in case you were curious, finding it somewhat difficult to earn money as a Squib in a Wizard's world, and turned to selling his body. Well… not precisely HIS body. But in any case. They never spoke of the incident again. And yes, apparently Polyjuice does work on Squibs. Do not question my authorship!)


	3. Sirius' Last Wish

A/N: First of all, for everyone who liked the last chapter, I have a riff off of that from Filch's perspective up. It will be multi-chapter, and it's called 'The Secret Lives of Squibs.' OK, now on to the story.

"Remus."

"_NO_, Sirius. That is unspeakably immature, not to mention probably illegal. And I've gotten into enough trouble with form-changing lovers already."

"But Harry has James' invisibility cloak!"

"Sirius, just because you want to vicariously experience sex with _your own little cousin_—"

"Ho, so now she's my 'little' cousin? Not when you decided to start—"

Remus slapped Sirius across the head with a rolled-up copy of the Daily Prophet, which Sirius promptly grabbed, then opened to the Crossword puzzle. The two men were sitting at the table in 12 Grimmauld place, and while Remus was extremely, perhaps excessively, taken aback at Sirius's proposal, at least it had gotten the other man to stop brooding and getting drunk with a hippogriff.

Speaking of hippogriffs…

"Look, Remus, I can't help my hormones. Sometimes, when I'm in dog form, I just get these… terrible urges… with other dogs… and sometimes with Buckbeak. It's awful. It's horrific. Please, Remus, for the love of God and the prevention of small half-dog-half-hippogriff babies, please! Let me watch!"

Remus frowned thoughtfully into his cocoa. "Isn't Buckbeak… male?"

"That's not the point!"

"Your _cousin_, Sirius."

"She could change her shape!" Sirius' eyes took on a faraway expression. "Mm, she could turn into Gwenog Jones… that's my favorite fantasy…" He jumped up and down in his chair like a little boy. "I wouldn't even make a sound! Well, maybe some muffled grunts, but I could cast a _silencio_. You'd never know I was there."

"I am not deceiving the poor woman in that fashion!"

Sirius looked him straight in the eye, a strangely… serious… expression on his face. "Are you a Marauder or not, Moony?"

Remus winced. He was using the Marauder name. It was so hard to say no when he used the Marauder name.

"What…" Sirius continued, keeping his gaze level. "What do you think Marauders do? They Maraud. Pillage, plunder… vicarious sex with cousins disguised as Gwenog Jones who never have to know about it…"

"Right," Remus said, relieved to have found a loophole. "She's an _Auror_, Sirius. She'll know someone's there just as well as I will!"

Sirius looked impatient. "Yes," he told Remus condescendingly. "Which is why I even mentioned this to you in the first place. I need you to distract her."

"_Distract—_"

"You know, use your sexy masculine wiles, Moony. If you have any. Personally I just think my cousin has appallingly bad taste."

"You—"

Sirius, realizing he had gone too far, backed off a bit. "Look, Moony," he said quietly, "I might not even live much longer. Would you deny me this one last pleasure?"

And Remus, thinking of the mornings he had found Sirius sprawled on the floor, tearstreaks on his face and an empty bottle of liquor in his hand, finally agreed. She'd never know.

Unfortunately, when Sirius' cloak slipped off the next night and Tonks saw him in a state of… excitement…

She abruptly slipped back into her real form and refused to change back. Not to mention the hysterical crying, the yells, the accusations, etc., etc.

Let's just say that she didn't really leave Lupin that year because he was 'too old, too poor and too dangerous.'


	4. A Believable Body Switch

A/N: OK, the Ron/Hermione bodyswitch has happened far too many times, and always for a lousy reason. So, really, I had to parody it.

Ron and Hermione Switch Bodies for an Actually Explicable (if kinky) Reason

"Ronald, dear?" Hermione Weasley said hesitantly one night over dinner, as the newlyweds sat outside a small Paris bistro, enjoying their honeymoon.

"Yes, Hermione?" Ron reached across the table to give her a light peck on the cheek before returning to meal. "Is something wrong?" he added, taking in the troubled expression on her face.

"No, Ron…" She sighed. "It's just that I got into this discussion with a woman at the club the other night, you know, the one who was…"

Ron's eyes glinted dangerously. "She was trying to make a move on you, Hermione!"

"Yes, I know, I'm not stupid. Anyway, when I said that I didn't… you know… swing that way, and besides I was married… she suggested Polyjuice Potion. For her, I mean. And then she told me that even if I didn't use it with her, lots of couples…" She blushed.

Ron blanched, his freckles standing out in sharp relief against his pale skin, and let his mouth hang open, a bit of unchewed food on full display. Hastily, he swallowed it, only to burst out in noisy coughs. At last he responded.

"You want to have _Polyjuice Sex_?" he squawked incredulously. "Merlin, Hermione, that's something only really kinky French wizards do! I mean, I'd heard of it of course, but…" He paused. "Would this mean I got to be in your body? And I could touch it however I wanted?"

Hermione glared at him. "Only if I could do the same with yours," she snapped, but there was a note of humor in her voice.

"Huh," Ron said, returning to his meal. "Sounds sort of fun, then, yeah."

And it was, so much so that they repeated the experience, until running into a bad batch of Polyjuice that left them stuck in each other's bodies. From then on, friends and relatives could never quite put their finger on it, but something had definitely changed about Ron and Hermione…

Ah well, Mrs. Weasley commented philosophically (knowing whereof she spoke), marriage certainly could change a person…..


End file.
